Caledonia Fae 04- Druid Lords (8 page)

“I think Huck is restless.”

“Maybe he wishes to visit his own homeland. Where is he from?”

“America,” Munro said. When Eilidh gave him a blank expression, he added, “It’s over the ocean from Scotland.”

“North?” she asked. “To the frozen lands?”

“West. Beyond a large ocean we call the Atlantic.”

Eilidh sat up in the bed, making it sway sharply. “He’s from The Bleak? Why did you never tell me this? I knew he was not from the area around my own borderlands, but I always assumed…” Her voice trailed off.

“What’s wrong with him being from America?” The fae gave strange names to human places, calling large cities
wastelands
. It didn’t surprise him that she didn’t know the human names for cities outside her own borderlands. She even referred to cities in Scotland by their ancient fae names rather than the common English names.

“We don’t talk about The Bleak.” She shuddered as though someone had just walked over her grave.

“Who is queen of those gates?”

“No one,” she said. “The Bleak is a wild place, full of dangers. The fae were driven out millennia ago, the queens killed, and the gates severed.” After a pause, she added, “I never considered there might be druids there. I’m glad Huck Webster escaped such a horrific existence as he must have experienced in those desolate lands.”

Munro searched for a way to bridge the gap in their understanding to gently ask what she thought Huck had escaped
from
. The druid had been working for a Texas oil company that did business in Aberdeen when Flùranach and Rory found him. Munro wondered how many abandoned gates might still exist, connecting somehow to the American landscape.

Eilidh shivered. After the stressful day she’d had, Munro decided not to press her merely to satisfy his own curiosity. “Rory is planning to seek out Flùranach. He thinks he knows where she might be hiding. Our only hope of finding more druids is with the aid of someone like her.”

“It is a brave choice,” Eilidh said.

“He’s stronger than anyone realises.”

The conversation trailed off, and they lay together in the morning light. Eilidh’s breathing slowed and she drifted towards sleep, her head resting on his bare chest. Her voice flitted into his mind.
I love you.

“I love you too,” he whispered and closed his eyes. Such a simple thing, to lie with her and talk about their days, their worries, their plans. But he never took it for granted. Their world was too changeable, and he never knew what each moment might bring. For now, he pushed Koen and this mysterious druid of Huck’s out of his mind. Instead, he thought about being with the woman he loved. He wished the moment would last forever, but in the morning she’d rush off to do whatever her kingdom required, to plan her third wedding. He’d return to the Halls of Mist and talk to the keepers about the Source Stone, hoping to unlock its ancient secrets.

It seemed like only moments later when Eilidh woke him with a light kiss, but the daylight had already dimmed. Her eyes shone in the darkness.

A smile played across his lips. He’d missed her. He realised how much he looked forward to the time they would spend alone together after their wedding. Of course, that time would include travelling, feasts, and galas at which he would be formally introduced to Caledonian society as her mate. Some of the time, however, they would be completely alone, and the idea pleased him.

“Good evening,” he said and returned her kiss.

Her smile was marred by an expression of worry.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I am planning to ask Griogair to travel to the Andenan borderlands with me.” Her words came out in a rush. “I need to greet the Andenan people and on such an occasion, it is customary to visit the altars and speak with the Andenan Watchers. If my wen-lei finds them to be suitable, they will be integrated into our own force. I will also have to quietly learn if Estobar is telling the truth about the broken gate in the Andenan lands. This entire process will involve such upheaval.”

“I’m glad Griogair will be going with you. He’s a lot better at politicking than I could dream of being.”

Her smile brightened. “You don’t mind?”

“Of course not,” he said, slightly confused at her worry. It wasn’t like this was the first time she and her mate had travelled without him. Perhaps she was anxious because of the upcoming wedding. “People respect me because I’m with you, or because of this Druid Lord title. But I’m just a guy from Perth who fell in love with someone who became a queen. When it comes to the serious or formal stuff, Griogair is your man, not me. I’m not jealous of your relationship with him. I’m surprised you think I would be.”

“Thank you, Quinton,” she said and wrapped her arms around him. She kissed him fiercely, and he returned her passion in equal measure.

“We have a little time before you need to leave, don’t we?” he said, now wide awake and fully aware of her intimate touch and writhing movements.

“I’m their queen,” she said. “They’ll not leave without me.”

∞

Huck and Rory left the Ashkyne Hall, the last of the places they intended to search for Flùranach. The pair spent the early part of the evening visiting every Hall, ostensibly requesting permanent access to the borderlands to facilitate their search for other druids. Huck did most of the talking while Rory concentrated on searching for Flùranach’s presence.

Depressed and dejected after long hours of no luck, Rory wanted to scream in frustration. “I’m certain I felt her the other day. I would swear to it,” he said as they descended from the Hall into the courtyard.

“I know,” Huck said. Rory appreciated the support, even though the other druid had no way to really be sure if Rory was telling the truth or losing his mind. “She might have mixed in with the crowd and left right afterwards. A lot of them did.”

Rory nodded, staring at the immense blue orb and considering each of the kingdoms it led to. “If only the portal could tell us where it sends people. I mean, how does it choose which kingdom someone goes to?”

“I dunno,” Huck said. “I guess I never thought about it. I step through, and I always end up where I want to go.”

“What if you don’t know where you want to go?” Rory asked, more thinking aloud than expecting an answer. He approached the blue glow and gazed into it.

Without warning, Huck moved into the portal and disappeared. Rory stood and stared for a moment, uncertain what the other druid was up to. But Huck was like that, always jumping in without questioning or thinking his actions through.

A few minutes later, Huck reappeared. “Ashkyne,” he said.

“Interesting.” Rory scratched the thick, short red hairs of his beard. “I wonder if it would do the same for me. It makes sense you would go to Ashkyne. That’s how you’d get to your druid-girl. But me, I don’t have an attachment to any kingdom. I suppose if any, it would send me to Caledonia.”

Huck nodded. “Only one way to find out for sure. What harm can it do to try?”

Rory chuckled. “Well, if I don’t have a clear destination in mind, the Stone might trap me in there forever or send me someplace that didn’t exist up until I stepped through. For all we know, it could chuck me anywhere in the human realm with no way back without walking five hundred miles.”

“You sound like Munro,” Huck said.

“All it takes is one serious magical accident to make you cautious. Flùranach was eight years old when she encountered the time stream by linking with Tràth. She came out looking twenty-five, by human standards, and thinking like she was a thousand. When I touched the Source Stone, I have never faced anything before or since that made me feel like more of an insignificant speck.”

Huck shifted uncomfortably. “We could ask the keepers.”

“I’m not sure they know any more about the Source Stone than we do, and the Stone controls this portal.” Bracing himself, he thought about Flùranach and passed into the blue glow. He expected to detect the difference in the air as he moved into one of the kingdoms, but nothing changed. Before long, he realised he’d simply moved straight through the glow of the portal to the other side. He looked at Huck through the dazzling light and moved into the orb once more. Again, nothing happened.

“So if you don’t want to go anywhere, you don’t?”
Huck asked, furrowing his dark eyebrows together.

“But I do want to go somewhere. I want find Flùranach.”

“That’s
who
, though, not
where
. Maybe the portal isn’t smart enough to find a person.”

“It alters entire kingdoms and controls the gates, for god’s sake.”

They both stared as two faeries came through the portal. Rory didn’t know either of them, but they nodded to him as they passed and went about their business.

“Maybe it’s leading you here because she’s still around and we missed her,” Huck said.

“We went to every Hall. They aren’t
that
big. I would have known if she’d been close.”

“Maybe she’s not in a Hall. We didn’t check the library.”

Rory looked towards the library entrance. Beyond the runed pillars, a stairway wound deep below their feet. Housed within was the Source Stone itself, directly under the portal.
He hadn’t been inside the library since he touched the artefact six months before. The event affected him differently than the others, maybe because of his magical injury. Connecting with the Stone strengthened the positive and powerful within him but also intensified his nightmares.
He wasn’t in any hurry to relive the experience.

“Can’t hurt to check,” Huck prodded him.

“What’s our excuse though? With the queens, we asked for access to their gates.”

Huck shrugged. “We’re druid lords. Do we need an excuse?”

“We’ll say we’re looking for Munro. He spends half his life in there.” Rory wasn’t sure why he hesitated. Like Huck said, they weren’t likely to be questioned, but cold dread filled his stomach. With great effort, he pushed past his fear. “Okay,” he said.

With focused willpower, he followed Huck to the library entrance. He silently commanded his feet to move one in front of the other, down step after step, until they reached the vast foyer below. Black pillars held mounted runestones dotted within like a museum display. The druids’ steps echoed off the high, stone walls and ceiling. It felt like a tomb.

Keeper Oszlár shuffled in, as he tended to do, bent from extreme old age. He straightened his back and met Rory’s eyes. He looked sad. “You’re not ready,” he said.

Rory approached the old faerie. “What?” He thought he hadn’t heard the keeper right.

“And neither is she, for that matter.”

“She’s here?” Huck asked.

Oszlár tilted his head noncommittally.

“How long?” Rory said, rapidly becoming angry. “How long have you been hiding her?”

“Why?” Oszlár asked. “Why do you want to know? Do you seek revenge? Justice, even?”

“I need her help.”

“You aren’t ready.”

Rory fumed. “What gives you the right to decide when I’m ready?” he shouted. “I want to see her.”

“Are you still having nightmares?” Oszlár asked.

Rory flushed. The question caught him off guard. “How do you know about that?”

“I saw within you when you touched the Source Stone. Her actions damaged you. Deeply.”

“Yeah, well, I’m over it.” Rory didn’t believe the bravado he forced into his voice. Still, he bloody well wasn’t going to be told how he felt by someone who saw a vision in a rock, even one as powerful and strange as the Source Stone.

“Ah, but she isn’t.”

The statement only made things worse. What did
she
need to get over? She attacked him, ripped off his clothes, and forced her way into his mind. His bond was shattered by what she did. He felt as though he would never be able to love anyone or anything again. And
she
was upset?

“I thought a druid’s word was law,” Huck said.

“Some things,” Oszlár said, “are more important than tradition. You will see her again, but not before you’re both healed.” His eyes grew sharp and keen. “It is vital that she join you. If anything gets in the way of that coming to pass, the consequences for the entire fae race are far worse than you can imagine.”

The keeper’s words struck Rory as both ominous and peculiar. “You’re claiming you know the future?” he asked.

“I know a few things,” Oszlár replied, his previously harsh tone melting into wry humour.

“Flùranach is important to the future of your race?”

“She is the key to our survival.”

Rory sighed. “I’m not going to hurt her. I just want to talk to her.”

A soft voice spoke from a side entrance. “Rory.”

All three turned. Flùranach stood fifty feet away near a darkened archway. She looked changed, more mature, possibly. Like the difference between a woman of twenty-five and the same woman at thirty.
Her skin was the palest, most delicate pink
, and strands of dark red hair wisped from beneath a hooded robe. Her green eyes swirled with magic, but still held that haunted look he’d seen in them the last time they met.